


The Golden Balance

by joongz



Series: The Dark Affairs [3]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Demons, F/F, Fae & Fairies, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Love Letters, M/M, Mentions of addiction, POV Multiple, Pining, Slow Burn, Vampires, Werewolves, mentions of fighting & injuries & blood, no need to have knowledge of the shadowhunters universe, plot heavy, shadowhunters au, strap in your seatbelts for angsty san!!!, wooyoung yearns a lot....., yeonjun somehow became a very important character.... love that funky pink haired dude
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:48:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28832925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joongz/pseuds/joongz
Summary: The Greater Demon roams the city of Seoul, putting Jung Wooyoung and the other young Shadowhunters of Seoul in danger. With the help of an infamous warlock and an elusive vampire leader, they are closer than ever to find closure for the same evil that once haunted the Shadowhunters of 1899.But battling demons and abominations aren’t the only difficulties Wooyoung faces, there’s the mysterious Choi San, for whom he has developed feelings.
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Jeong Yunho/Kim Hongjoong/Song Mingi, Kang Yeosang/Park Seonghwa
Series: The Dark Affairs [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1650769
Comments: 13
Kudos: 28





	1. Prologue: Poisoned Blood

**Author's Note:**

> I AM BACK! Part two of the Shadowhunters series is here !!!! I'm really excited!! I hope everyone has been well ^^
> 
> Before we start this adventure a couple of important notes:
> 
> \- This is all fiction, please do not take it seriously. This isn’t a reflection of how I see these people or how they necessarily behave in real life
> 
> \- There will be glimpses of the 1899 story line, but this part will mostly focus on Wooyoung and San, and the 2019 storyline!
> 
> \- As I said in the first part, I have never been to Seoul or New York, all locations are based off of Google Maps, if there are any inaccuracies please let me know!!
> 
> \- Lastly, you don’t need to read The Law of Smoke since I made sure this can be an individual fic, but I recommend it hehe 
> 
> \- If you don't know much about the Shadowhunters Universe don't worry, most of the stuff is explained in the fic, and you should also be able to find most of these terminologies with a quick google search!
> 
> With that out of the way, happy reading!!! ^^

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Look after him, make sure he doesn’t do anything reckless,” Yeonjun asked of him. “I will forever be in your debt, Wooyoung. That’s a valuable thing, don’t forget that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the official playlist for this series: [link](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/35pDgMTB9t8iXFHgigfyjD) ✨✨

**Seoul, November 8th 2019**

As per usual in the Institute of Seoul, Jung Wooyoung found himself cleaning his room thoroughly, a task he was ordered to do at least once a week by the Head of the Institute. It was a cold night, if the wind that splashed strong gushes of rain against his window was any indication. Despite this deplorable weather, he advanced to the duty of cleaning his windows. A task he struggled with as he half leaned out of the window, perched on the windowsill like a bird ready to fly.

There was a huge oak tree standing right by Wooyoung’s window, often frequented by loud birds that loved to cause havoc at five in the morning when Wooyoung was just waking up. Now, in the early night, it was bearably quiet, or so he thought. 

Down, in the Institute’s courtyard, he spotted two shadows moving about, a yellow umbrella fighting with the wind. At first he assumed they were lost mundanes, until he recognized one of the two shadows: Kim Hongjoong, an infamous warlock currently residing in Seoul and a newfound ally. Next to Hongjoong walked a tall man, dressed all in white, as though he was attending a Shadowhunter funeral. In the light coming from a street lamp, Wooyoung saw the stranger had hair as red as blood.

He frowned, wondering what Hongjoong could possibly want so late at the Institute and who that man was. He saw them stop in the Institute’s garden, where a single marble grave stood. It was nameless, but Wooyoung had learned enough about this Institute’s history—and Nephilim history over all—in the past weeks to know it belonged to Jung Yunho.

Yunho, the banned Shadowhunter. He’d been banished from the Shadowhunter community back in 1899 for having intimate relationships with a Downworlder, who once had been a Shadowhunter himself. As Wooyoung watched that tall individual with the red hair, he did wonder if perhaps it was that same Downworlder; if it was the elusive vampire leader Hongjoong had talked so much about that they had yet to meet.

With a shake of his head, Wooyoung returned to his task of cleaning his room. He could gossip about it later with his _parabatai_ and his friends in the Institute. He wondered briefly if Choi San, one of the temporary residents of the Institute of Seoul, would be interested in such gossip. San had shown quite a disapproval towards Hongjoong and the vampires. 

In October, there had been an attack in Busan, fatally harming the local Institute and killing some of its residents, forcing four of them to live in the Institute of Seoul: Park Jimin, Kim Gunhak, Choi Yerim, and San. Since then, it had become obvious the attack in Busan wasn’t limited to the city in the south, those same abominations were roaming the city of Seoul now, causing quite a havoc in the Shadow World. But that wasn’t all: about a few days ago, they had encountered a massive demon attack, barely escaping unscathed. The voice of a Greater Demon had spoken in Yerim’s mind, speaking of a curse that affected Wooyoung directly. It was still to determine whether that was true or just an empty threat from the Greater Demon—they liked to manipulate mortals and speak twisted words.

All in all, it was a miracle Wooyoung could still find the peace of mind to clean his room with everything that was going on. Perhaps because it was a distraction, he did find time to absolve these mundane tasks.

Another distraction came in the form of a knock on his door. He dropped his cleaning utensils and marched to his room’s door, when he opened it he came face to face with Son Hyejoo, one of the young Shadowhunters permanently residing in the Institute of Seoul, and, much to Wooyoung’s surprise, none other than Choi Yeonjun.

“I found him politely knocking on the front door of the Institute instead of ringing the bell in Sanctuary. He said he wanted to speak to you,” Hyejoo explained, eyeing Yeonjun curiously and mildly annoyed. “You can be lucky I was near the door or this meeting would not have been a secret one.”

Wooyoung had been introduced to Yeonjun fairly recently, when he had secretly followed San a couple of nights ago. San had sneaked out and gone to a Downworlder bar, where Wooyoung had found him with Yeonjun, a faerie that claimed to have grown up with San in the Seelie Court.

“Choi Yeonjun, right?” Wooyoung inquired.

“Yup. It’s nice to meet you again, Jung Wooyoung.” Yeonjun turned to face Hyejoo, smiling politely at her. “Thank you, Hyejoo. I owe you.”

“You’re welcome.” She eyed them for a few more seconds before she turned to leave, mouthing something that looked like a confused swear word. “Ah, Wooyoung-oppa, remember there’s a Clave meeting soon.”

Now that she was gone, Wooyoung felt very awkward and unsettled in Yeonjun’s presence. His pink hair stood out brightly in the light of Wooyoung’s room. He was very pretty, similar to San and other faeries: an aching and otherworldly beauty that made Wooyoung’s skin become dancing flames.

“What brings you here?” Wooyoung finally asked.

“I have come to give you information.”

“A faerie voluntarily sharing information? That’s unheard of.” He laughed, surprised. “Well, what do you bring information about?”

Yeonjun smiled. “Not about what, but about _who_ ,” he clarified. “It’s about my meeting with San a few nights ago, that you crashed into so dramatically.”

Wooyoung grimaced. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize.” Yeonjun laughed. “It’s alright. I’m worried San holds the same resentment towards Downworlders as he has in the past, when we were involved. You see, he was deeply hurt by the Seelie Court. He doesn’t really trust Downworlders—especially immortal ones. I wanted to warn you, and ask you to keep an eye on him.”

Wooyoung parted his lips, affronted. He had noticed San’s dislike toward Hongjoong and Seoho—and the elusive vampire leader—but he hadn’t thought of it as something dangerous; something he needed to keep an eye on.

He swallowed nervously. It was as if he was playing two fronts at once.

“How can I know you’re telling the truth?” he inquired, crossing his arms in front of his chest protectively. Faeries couldn’t lie, but Wooyoung knew they could twist the truth enough to let it become a lie. “For all I know, you’re trying to stir chaos between us. The faerie folk have been very unhelpful in these hard times, with all these strange attacks.”

Yeonjun squinted his eyes.

“We are keeping out of it since it hasn’t really affected us. We _do_ have information though. If you Nephilim weren’t so proud and with your head stuck up your asses, you would have realized that,” Yeonjun hissed, proud. Wooyoung bit the inside of his cheek, holding back from throwing an insult at Yeonjun. “When I saw San, I thought the Institute had sent him for answers, but he came on his own accords…”

“On his own accords,” Wooyoung echoed. “Which are?”

Yeonjun licked his lips. “They could potentially ruin everything. He’s proud, and he’s hurt, and he’s not really used to working in a team because he doesn’t know if he’s more faerie or more Nephilim so he wavers, and like a pendulum he swings from one side to another.”

Wooyoung scowled, worry filling him. He hadn’t known San had this internal struggle going on. He seemed so well put together and adjusted. Of course, there were Wooyoung’s observations that San possibly had had a _yin fen_ addiction in his past, but even that didn’t appear to completely derail him.

“He’s both. Faerie _and_ Shadowhunter,” Wooyoung settled for saying.

Yeonjun smiled sadly. “Perhaps you can make him see that. He doesn’t have to choose. He just has to find the balance between the two. For Heaven’s sake, it’s even on his stupid, little Nephilim ring.” He laughed, deprecatingly, and shook his head.

The Choi’s emblem, Wooyoung recalled having glimpsed San’s ring. The golden balance. A balance between Nephilim Law, the blood of family, free will… 

“What do you want me to do? I have enough on my plate as it is, if you haven’t realized.”

“Look after him, make sure he doesn’t do anything reckless,” Yeonjun asked of him. “I will forever be in your debt, Wooyoung. That’s a valuable thing, don’t forget that.” He studied Wooyoung for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face. “And, if it’s not too much to ask for—and if his pretentiously mysterious personality hasn’t spooked you yet—be a friend to San. I think he could really use someone like you.”

Wooyoung didn’t know what to say to that. He thought San was barely tolerating him, putting up with him because they had started to live under the same roof. A polite acquaintanceship between the Institute of Seoul and the Institute of Busan, nothing more or beyond that. Which was fatal since Wooyoung was harboring a small crush on San.

Yeonjun sensed Wooyoung’s discomfort and confusion and, with a pitiful pat on his shoulder, he saw himself off. “I will take my leave before this place is stormed with Nephilim, but I’m sure we will see each other again.”

Seconds stretched out as Wooyoung stood frozen on the spot. First Hongjoong and his companion had visited Yunho’s grave; then Yeonjun had warned him about San; what was next? Wooyoung almost dreaded the Clave meeting. After the Greater Demon’s presence over Seoul, which hadn’t gone unnoticed by many Clave members living in the large city, the Council had finally moved their idle threads to call for a meeting in the Institute of Seoul to discuss these nefarious and dark affairs. Wooyoung couldn’t shake off the feeling that the Council had had more reasons for putting this meeting off for so long than _just_ their usual apathetic feelings towards Downworlders. After all, the Institute of Busan had suffered the attack about a month ago, there was _no way_ they were letting that go so easily without any major investigation.

Another knock dragged Wooyoung out of his thoughts; with a scowl he opened the door to his room. _Who is it going to be? Another stray Downworlder telling me what to do?_

His _parabatai_ stood in front of him, immediately put-off as he sensed Wooyoung’s confusion and annoyance.

“What… happened?” Choi Jongho asked, tilting his head as he appraised Wooyoung. “Hyung?”

“Nothing,” Wooyoung said in response. “Let’s just go to the library. I’m sure that’s why you came.”

Jongho pressed his lips together, but didn’t pry. “Yeah. Everyone’s waiting for you.”

Wooyoung ran a distressed hand through his hair. He eyed the window, half cleaned; he wondered if the two Downworlders were still there, or if they had left, like Yeonjun, before the arrival of all the Shadowhunters in Seoul and outskirts.

Jongho and Wooyoung walked through the different corridors, up the staircase, until they reached the library. All the other residents—permanent as well as temporary—of the Institute of Seoul were already seated, in a circle. There were a couple of older Shadowhunters who lived not in the Institute. 

“Is that the last one?” Yoo Kihyun asked, son of the current Consul, as he stared disapprovingly at Wooyoung.

“That is him,” Kwon Boah said, the Institute’s Head. She ushered Jongho and Wooyoung to take seats. “I am glad you could all make it on such short notice,” she began, a murmur of approval following. “I know many of you have been suspicious for a while and have dealt with the demon attacks and those terrible abominations… I am glad the Council finally decided this problem is important.” She glanced briefly at Kihyun and his _parabatai_ , Lee Minji—daughter of a notorious member of the Council. They both held scowls, knowing Boah was rightly accusing the Council for their carelessness. “Before I give a full report of the past weeks, I believe there are troubling news from Alicante.”

“ _Indeed_.” Kihyun stood up, smoothing out his shirt. He glanced at the numerous Shadowhunters with an air of importance, but Wooyoung could see a waver in his eyes. “After the safety of the young residents of the Institute of Busan was guaranteed, Hell broke loose. The Head of the Institute was poisoned. He has been in the care of the Silent Brothers for the past weeks, submerged into a slumber to slow down his poisoning. A cure has yet to be found, but the Silent Brotherhood has determined it is a poisoning related to blood.” Numerous gasps filled the library, whispers followed soon after.

“Poisoned?” Kim Hyunjin repeated, her eyes wide with fear.

“Why did no one tell us?” Jimin demanded, her back tensed. She had lost her _parabatai_ during the attack on the Institute of Busan.

“Everyone calm down!” Boah insisted. “Let Kihyun speak.”

Kihyun shot her an appreciative smile before he continued, “Furthermore, the blood poisoning is related to these abominations—as Boah has called them. Whoever tampered with these creations, mixing blood with a binding spell, has created a sickness that affects Shadowhunters. Thankfully, only the Head of the Institute of Busan has been affected so far. But we are entirely in the dark with what might happen next. And with the recent revelation that a Greater Demon was released into the world, it seems that very dark times are ahead of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!!!<3
> 
> you can find me on twitter [here](https://twitter.com/hhhjoong)  
> and if you have questions about the fic or wanna scream you can find me on curiouscat [here](https://curiouscat.qa/mist_)


	2. The Source of Evil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you miss them? The Seelie Lands?”
> 
> San laughed, it was a strained and painful sound. “Sometimes,” he confessed; he said it as if it was a burning curse he carried with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we've got a lot happening here :') yungijoong nation if you're out there this goes for u

> _Alicante, Idris_
> 
> _December 20th 1899_
> 
> _My dear son,_
> 
> _It was far from easy to pick up my quill and write this letter to you as the pain and disappointment I face are nearly paralyzing my hand. Your most recents actions have put me in such discomfort and disgrace, I cannot comprehend how you could do this to your own family._
> 
> _I have already lost my position as Consul; how selfish must you be to do this to us? They are talking about banishment; your mother is inconsolable! You can be lucky her brother is present to help with her heartbreak in Seoul._
> 
> _I wanted to be proud of you, my son, for stopping Park Jinhyuk and his diabolical alliance with that mad mundane. I resigned my position, admitting to my mistakes of trusting Jinhyuk; but to have my own son betray me this way…_
> 
> _It pains me too much to further write of this._
> 
> _Your mother and I are begging you to come to your senses, there is still a place for you with us._
> 
> _Sincerely,_
> 
> _Your Father_

**~*~**

**New York, December 22nd 1899**

It was far too early in the morning to be standing at the gates of someone’s mansion, but he feared there was no other place for him to stay at. It was done now. _Banished_ , the word swirled around in Jung Yunho’s mind, like a whirlpool in a stormy sea. 

He cursed all Shadowhunters, especially those sitting comfortably in Idris.

Even if the Head of the International Institute of New York would welcome him with open arms as a guest, he couldn’t put her in danger. Bae Irene had suffered enough, she had just come out of so much pain and sorrow herself; and he wasn’t sure how much longer Irene would stay in charge of the Institute, with the offer she got to become the new Consul… 

_No._ He couldn’t go to her. No matter how much she’d insist once she’d find out about his fate. 

The mansion of the High Warlock of Queens looked sadder than it had the first time Yunho had visited it, during the warlock’s birthday. He wasn’t even sure if the host was present or if he was in his private flat in Queens, but the mansion was the first place that had crossed Yunho’s mind in the search for shelter. The warlock had taken care of Song Mingi without hesitation, Yunho hoped he’d do the same for him.

With a deep sigh, he climbed over the gate and walked through the small garden until he reached the large front door. He knocked three times and waited anxiously. It was eerily quiet, but it didn’t faze him as it wasn’t even dawning yet. Everyone should be asleep still.

As he waited he glanced around the garden, now covered by a thin layer of snow, more was to fall, the air’s distinctive scent gave it away. To Yunho’s surprise, when the door opened at last, a familiar face peeked out. Not the warlock, but one he welcomed nonetheless.

“Oh?” the vampire said, surprised. “Yunho, was it?”

Lee Seoho opened the door further, stepping aside so that Yunho could cross the threshold.

“Yes. I am terribly sorry for barging in like this, unannounced, but I must know, is Hongjoong home? I need to speak with him, most urgently.”

“Yes, he is.” Seoho nodded, glaring at the first rays of sunlight in the sky. “He was about to leave. Come, I will show you to his study.” Seoho walked ahead, upstairs. The mansion looked so different without celebrating Downworlders and cheerful music reaching into every corner. 

Yunho followed the vampire eagerly, his throat tightening with each step he took. No one knew of his banishment yet. Only him and his closest family, but he was sure it would be made public in the morning: gossip spread fast. He hadn’t even shown the letter to his friends or his _parabatai_. Not even Jung Jinsoul, his dearest cousin, knew about it. 

Seoho stopped in front of a door, and knocked twice. “Hongjoong. Jung Yunho is here to see you.”

“Come in!” called out the warlock.

Before Yunho could enter, Seoho took hold of his wrist. “You should come visit my den some time soon. Mingi is eager to see you again.”

Yunho nodded, his heart aching at the mention of Mingi’s name. When Yunho had gone back to Idris the previous week, he hadn’t been able to get Mingi out of his mind; he had missed him so, so dearly. He had thought he could follow his training in Alicante and secretly see Mingi, but fate had a twisted way of manifesting. 

“Tell him I will visit him soon. I just have to—There are some very important matters I need to attend first.”

Seoho nodded, and let go. “Of course. I shall see you again. Take care, Yunho.”

“You too, Seoho.”

Within the blink of an eye, Seoho was gone, his vampire speed not even leaving a cloud of dust behind.

Yunho inhaled deeply, preparing himself to face the High Warlock of Queens and the request he was about to ask of him.

Kim Hongjoong was seated in front of his desk, writing down notes. He glanced up at Yunho, and smiled welcomingly. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Yunho!” He put down his quill, gesturing at Yunho to come closer and take a seat. “I was just writing down the events of the past months so that I shall not forget them. You never know what you might need them for in the future. And with the Greater Demon possibly roaming free, well… It should not hurt to document it.”

“Certainly.”

“Although I am quite pleased by your visit, Yunho, I am concerned and terribly curious; what have you come here for? Is there anything you seek?”

Yunho pressed his lips together. “Hongjoong,” he started, “I have a difficult decision to make, and I have come to you to ask for advice.”

“Oh, my.” Hongjoong frowned, and reached forward to hold Yunho’s hand, patting it comfortingly. “I see you carry a heavy heart, my friend.”

“It is about my family. Well, not only them. I have been put in an uncomfortable and terrible position, forced to choose between Mingi and being an active Shadowhunter,” he started carefully, his throat tightening. “I have been banned for my romantic involvement with Mingi. My father insisted if I come back home now there is still time to salvage my reputation, but…” He faltered, tears stinging in his eyes. 

Hongjoong stayed silent, his face falling. His eyes held a simmering anger. His hands momentarily tightened before he let go completely. 

The warlock stood up, facing the large window in his study that faced his garden, and spoke, “I sense you already made that choice before coming here.”

Yunho swallowed. _You wear your heart for everyone to see,_ Park Seonghwa, his closest friend, used to tell him in a scolding tone. Yunho hadn’t regretted it so far.

“Yes, that is correct.” Yunho took in a deep breath. “That is why I need a place to stay, somewhere until I can find my own way. I imagine sooner or later, I will be stripped of my runes, and I cannot bear to stay in Alicante, or anywhere else in Idris for that matter. It sickens me.”

Hongjoong didn’t move, and Yunho feared he’d asked for too much, that their relationship wasn’t this close, this unconditional. When the warlock finally did turn around, he wore a very gentle and understanding smile.

“Stay for as long as you need, Yunho.”

**~*~**

**New York, December 25th 1899**

The dreams were a loud cacophony of terrors and fears and memories. There was Yunho’s father, tall and angry and disappointed, and Seonghwa’s father too. Much of the same, the two of them—like a two-headed dragon they stood in front of Yunho, spitting words destructive as fire, while Yunho felt infinitesimally small and powerless.

Then there were Wallace Grant’s abominations, breaking apart that image of the terrible fathers, and instead Yunho found himself in the cold and wet streets of New York. It was nighttime, but the atmosphere was loud and alive, monsters everywhere as Yunho tried to battle them, completely alone, his friends were hurt or dead; panic crawled up his chest because he couldn’t imagine a life without them. 

What was he supposed to do without them?

Lastly, a large shadow visited him: it spread over New York like a thundercloud. Yunho had never seen a Greater Demon, only illustrations of them in books. They didn’t look like the one in his dream did, but it scared him senseless—especially since they had no idea if they had set the Greater Demon free to roam the world, or if they had stopped its summoning in time and it’d been sent back to its dimension in Hell.

Yunho was woken up when the sunset was just ending. He could see the last rays over the Jamaican Bay, where Hongjoong had freed the window of its curtains, letting fresh air inside. Since his arrival three days ago, Hongjoong had let Yunho wallow in his guest room as he ignored the world.

The High Warlock of Queens sat at the edge of Yunho’s bed now, a tentative smile on his lips. His hand, previously brushing Yunho’s shoulder gently to wake him up, now retrieved back onto his lap.

“A visitor has come. One that wants to desperately see you, Yunho,” Hongjoong whispered kindly. He’d been taking care of him the past three days. “I believe it might do you some good to see him.”

Yunho squinted at the warlock, exhaustion still deep in his bones. With a sigh he sat up, passing a hand through his tangled, greasy hair.

“Who is it?” he croaked out.

Hongjoong’s face flickered with another tentative smile. “I think you know.”

 _Song Mingi_.

Yunho wanted to see him too, but he felt terrible. He didn’t want Mingi to feel troubled or guilty by the choice Yunho had taken, to think that he had influenced and caused it. A world in which Yunho was forced to choose between love and work, was not one he wanted to participate in; his answer would always _be_ love, no matter what. He only hoped Mingi could understand this. That Yunho had taken the choice for the two of them. The hardships that would follow, he could deal with them; he _would_ deal with them because this path he regretted less than if he had stayed in Idris, if he had gone back to his parents.

“Should I tell him you will not see him?” Hongjoong asked, studying Yunho intensely. He hadn’t said much about the whole affair, he’d only taken care of Yunho wordlessly, giving him the space he needed.

“No.” Yunho shook his head, getting up from between his sheets. Suddenly, he felt gross in the bed, as if the whole room was too small, too dirty, too much of a prison. “I shall meet with him. I have missed him greatly,” he added the last bit quietly and gently.

Hongjoong hummed. 

“We will be waiting outside,” the warlock said. He got up, squeezing Yunho’s shoulder encouragingly. “Mingi said he wanted to show you the lit up streets of New York. During Christmas they are most delightful.” He smiled crookedly, his eyes crescents. Yunho thought Hongjoong looked very lonely then.

“You should come with,” Yunho said instinctively. “I am sure Mingi would love for you to accompany us.”

Hongjoong blinked in surprise. “I… I shall see.”

With much force, Yunho managed to leave the bed and the room—to leave that fear and sadness, at least for a little while—and marched into the living room, where Mingi sat stiffly on the sofa. His shoulders were embraced by a black linen button up that fell so loosely his collarbones were widely exposed, old and faded Nephilim runes snaking about; a top-hat rested on his lap, black leather pants enunciated his long and slender legs beautifully—and tantalizingly. His blood red hair sparkled in the light, as bright as the most dramatic sunset.

Mingi was striking, like a prince or a hero from one of those illustrated books Yunho had often read as a child. 

“ _Mingi_ ,” Yunho breathed in relief, a sob pushing its way up his chest, and by the time he fell into Mingi’s arms, he was shaking, tears were running down his cheeks, and his teeth were pressed together tightly as the anxious wave rode through him forcefully. 

Mingi held him tightly and closely to his chest. “Yunho,” he whispered in response, understanding immediately. 

In front of Hongjoong, they didn’t need to hide their affections, they didn’t feel constricted or ostracized. 

Yunho and Mingi had fallen in love a long time ago, before they’d even understood what the word _love_ meant or what it described, but they’d felt it, one way or another—either a shy look, a gentle touch, a hidden smile; it had been there. Hongjoong had given them the courage to explore it further, the boldness of daring. He had shown them that the greatest things came from nervous confessions and unplanned risks. He had given them a gentle push, and so much more: a safe space. Hongjoong was another part of it all, the third gear that moved them—this limitless clockwork of love. 

“I have this wine Keonhee gifted me from Spain, 1879. I held onto it for a special occasion,” Hongjoong brought up as he watched Yunho and Mingi, who were now sitting on the sofa, their thighs pressed together. “I think this moment is ideal to open it.”

“Gladly,” Yunho said. Despite the obvious mess he looked, it felt so good to be seen and known by Mingi and Hongjoong in this unbound way.

The warlock turned toward Mingi. “I might have a bottle of blood Seoho brought over some time ago; would you like some?”

The vampire shook his head. “No, thank you. I fed before I came.”

“Marvelous.” Hongjoong clapped his hands together. “But if you do feel like it, I have blood in reserve.”

The warlock’s desperate attempts to normalize Mingi’s vampire nature didn’t go by unnoticed as Mingi shot him a grateful smile.

Seated on the sofa, around the small table, the three friends began talking about anything that came to their mind: New York during Christmas, harmless gossip in the Shadow World, the International Institute of New York; until eventually Mingi asked about Yunho’s reason for being back in New York so soon.

“Do not interpret me wrong, I am more than delighted you are here, you should know that, I am quite simply surprised.”

Yunho sighed, tipping his head back to finish the wine. “I had hopes I could dance around this topic for a little longer.” He laughed self-deprecatingly. “I suppose that is not possible. Although, I do want to satisfy your curiosity, you have to promise me you will not feel guilty.”

Mingi tilted his head. “Is there a reason I should?”

“Absolutely not, but I know you, Mingi,” Yunho said. “To put it rather simply: I was kicked out of home and banished from the Shadowhunter community. Someone has discovered the nature of our relationship; naturally, it was less than approved of.” Mingi’s face already morphed into guilt and shame. Yunho’s fingers twitched; he wanted to erase that look so desperately, smoothen out those wrinkles on his forehead and around his mouth. “It is _not_ your fault, Mingi. I have chosen what I want the most, which is you, it is New York, it is Hongjoong… All of this,” he gestured his hand around, “is far more worth to me than a strict father and a negligent mother; than anything Idris could possibly offer me. You ought to believe me.”

Hongjoong stayed gracefully quiet, leaving this conversation between the ex-Nephilim and vampire.

“How can I not feel ridden with guilt? How can you accept this so easily?”

“I have not! I have wallowed in misery and pain for the past three days! Sometimes you must suffer to find comfort. It hurts, but I know this is what I want. I have never regretted something less than I do this. I feel no regrets towards my choice, Mingi. I love, I love you,” he confessed at last, getting carried away in the moment, but this, he didn’t regret either. How could he, if it was so true and good? “I love you, most passionately,” he repeated without the hesitation.

Be damned the hesitation and the fear of vulnerability, of emotional boldness. He’d held back for far too long. He was mortal, he wanted to begin living his life as daringly as he possibly could, especially if it was about his emotions—regrets were for his deathbed.

Mingi had a shattered look upon his face, but it slowly transformed into something gentle and precious.

“Oh, Yunho,” he murmured, taking Yunho’s hands in his. “I have tried to find the words, but for the first time in my life I do not find them adequate or powerful enough, to capture what I feel for you. I suppose, for now, and maybe for eternity, the words ‘I love you’ will suffice—it should not be measured, after all.”

Hongjoong watched them with misty eyes, delicately and discreetly wiping away tears. He looked positively proud and touched, but lonely too.

Yunho thought he wanted to include him in this, but he didn’t know how. Was there space for three in love? He failed to see why not, though he’d never seen such a thing. But Mingi and him were rewriting and reinventing love as they existed; why shouldn’t Hongjoong be part of it too? The missing gear, he thought once again, of this clockwork they had built for themselves, timeless and limitless.

After the urgent and needed matters of the heart, their conversation drifted once again to more troubling topics, such as the most recent developments regarding the dark affairs of Wallace Grant and Park Jinhyuk.

“Seonghwa has revealed that Jinhyuk’s trial will be on the 30th of December. Once his gruesome truth is revealed, he shall be stripped of his runes and rot in the Silent City until death finds him,” Yunho said. “He visited his father there a few days ago—Angel knows why—and he said Jinhyuk does not repent or regret. He is terrible as always.”

Hongjoong shook his head. “I worry about Seonghwa. It is not easy to have a terrible father, a murderer for a father.” He lowered his eyes. Yunho knew that Hongjoong’s own father was a Greater Demon, which was anything but a heartwarming family picture. “I am amazed how he has handled it so far.”

“Truly. I was worried he would get caught in Jinhyuk’s web. I am glad he found out of it,” Yunho agreed. “I am very grateful Yeosang helped him out of there.”

“To think they hated one another.” Mingi laughed. “I believe Seonghwa has helped Yeosang just as much, even if they both might not realize it yet.”

Hongjoong shook his head fondly. “They are quite an odd pair, are they not?”

“I always thought they had potential to get along,” Yunho said. “But I must admit, I was surprised they fell in love.”

“Fell in love,” Mingi echoed. “Do you really believe they are in love?”

“Most definitely. Seonghwa likes to pretend he is as impenetrable as his father, but his fondness and adoration have always been clear as water in his expressions.”

“Ah, I hope the storm that is brewing will not tear them apart. It would be a shame,” Hongjoong spoke. “It is rare to find such a genuine connection.”

“The storm that is brewing?” Mingi repeated, concerned.

“Jinhyuk’s trial, the possible Greater Demon roaming, Irene’s choice… There are still many difficulties ahead.”

“I have faith in Yeosang,” Mingi said. “They went through Hell and found love whilst in it. Whatever is to come, cannot break their bond. I am certain of it.”

“You hold a lot of faith in them,” Hongjoong observed. “They are both quite stubborn and reckless.”

The vampire smiled gently. “Ah, but that makes my faith in them only stronger. They work well together, almost like _parabatai_. Together they are much stronger than separated.”

Yunho nodded. “I must agree.”

Hongjoong raised his wine glass. He was smiling faintly. “To Yeosang and Seonghwa!”

“Speaking of those impending complications, have you any positive news regarding that Greater Demon?” Yunho asked the warlock.

Hongjoong faltered, his lips pressed together tightly in displeasure. “Aside from confirming his name, I must greatly disappoint you, for I have not.”

“Confirming his name, is that not much already when it comes to Greater Demons?” Yunho asked, probably overly optimistic.

“I suppose it is.” Hongjoong sighed, putting down his wine glass. “His name is Maluminse. The source of evil,” he revealed. “I cannot shake off this terrible feeling of dread that Mr Grant’s tampering in the Shadow World did not end with his blood-abominations. I am certain of that. Something is fatally wrong about Maluminse.”

“What do you mean?” Yunho questioned, now nervous. 

“When I tried to question lesser demons about him, find any kind of lead, there were very disturbing answers. I tried to track him down, see if he is roaming New York after all. My results were less than great. He appears to move among Earth, and yet, he does not.” Yunho frowned, not liking the sound of it, it sounded as if they were chasing smoke. 

“How is that possible?” Mingi asked. 

“It is as though Maluminse is tethered to a third dimension: one that allows him to be untouchable in Hell and on Earth alike.”

**~*~**

**Seoul, November 8th 2019**

Kim Hongjoong sat, legs crossed, in Boah’s study, waiting patiently for her arrival. 

He’d found himself in the room more times than he’d like, it wasn’t particularly optimal for a warlock to be in a Nephilim Institute; but similarly to 1899 and the following years, he didn’t mind it all that much. He was beginning to develop a liking toward Boah and the young Nephilim that lived in the Institute of Seoul. Mingi thought differently, choosing to brood outside. He said he was not ready, yet, to meet the acclaimed Nephilim. Hongjoong hoped his friend would soon cease his past anger and resentment. They needed him. It was a relief he had at least agreed to offer his help.

The grandfather clock that stood in the corner of the study, possibly the only antiquity in the room, chimed nine times: the Clave meeting had officially come to an end and, knowing Nephilim customs, they wouldn’t waste much time on pleasantries or chit-chat. 

As expected, the study’s door opened minutes later and in came Boah, lines of worry on her forehead and her lips drawn between her teeth. “ _Oh_!” She blinked at him, a little surprised. “Hongjoong. You’re here.”

“I said I would be here,” he said, defensive. “I have much to discuss with you. Mingi chose to wait outside, I apologize for his hesitant nature. He has agreed to help, but seeing Yunho’s grave was hard. I hope you understand.”

Boah shook her head, waving her hand dismissively in the air. “Sorry, I forgot, and it’s alright. Whenever he is ready, he can come meet us. Now, we received some very worrying news from Alicante. Let me get everyone.”

Hongjoong nodded, spreading himself out on the seat as he inspected his surroundings. It was a rather impersonal and bleak looking study, nothing like Mingi’s—which was filled to the brim with memories and curiosities—or Hongjoong’s own study back in his mansion in New York. His heart ached a bit at the memory of the American city, especially with the affairs they were dealing with: a bitter reminder of the past.

Boah was back fairly quickly; the co-Head of the Institute, Choi Youngjae, and four of the young Nephilim filtered into the study behind Boah.

“The others have decided not to join us, they’re quite shaken from the Clave meeting,” she explained to him as she sat behind her desk. “I’ll pass the information on to them tomorrow during breakfast.”

“Very well.” Hongjoong studied the four young Nephilim: Wooyoung, Jongho, Yerim, and San. _The same culprits as always_ , he thought distantly, a faint smile on his lips as he thought back to 1899. Back then, it had been the same young Nephilim as always involved with him too. Yeosang, Seonghwa, Yunho, Mingi, Jinsoul, and Mina.

Hongjoong’s heart ached at the memory. He pushed the past aside, focusing on those in front of him; though, with Jung Wooyoung present, a descendant of Jinsoul and Yeosang, the past wasn’t all too distant.

“What’s this meeting about?” San asked, arms crossed in front of his chest. He eyed Hongjoong distrustfully, which surprised the warlock. After all, San was partly a Downworlder, like Hongjoong. But Seoho had warned him about the half-faerie, his outburst after the demon attack had been suspicious and less than reassuring. Hongjoong wasn’t sure what side San was on, if there even _was_ a side for him. 

Perhaps, the warlock considered, San was a spy sent by the Seelie Queen to spy on these dark affairs so the faerie folk could wager what side would win, and join it. It wouldn’t be the first time faeries did this.

He shook himself inwardly.

“I bring news about Aidan Magnus, who I can now confirm was involved with Park Beomhyuk, but that’s not all,” he answered the question. “After some research, I have found out that Aidan is a direct descendant of Wallace Grant: the mundane that created these abominations in 1899 and was entangled with Maluminse, the Greater Demon of Evil.”

“Oh, this keeps getting better and better,” Yerim drawled. “You said Aidan is a Shadowhunter, didn’t you?”

Hongjoong nodded. “Yes. It seems that, before his death, Grant had a child with a Shadowhunter. That’s not where his lineage ends though.”

“What do you mean?” Jongho asked.

Hongjoong stood up from the seat, facing the window. Memories flooded back, especially painful as he could see part of Yunho’s white, polished grave from Boah’s study. His heart yearned and ached; speaking of this brought him back to days that had ended far too soon, leaving behind heartbreak and mourning. 

With a sigh, he spoke, “During the early XX’s century I traveled Europe with two very good friends of mine. We were trying to find out whether Maluminse had been released or not. In Ireland—Grant’s homeland—we discovered a very dreadful truth regarding him: he had a half-brother, a warlock, child of Maluminse…”

Yerim’s eyes widened. Youngjae covered his mouth with his hand, a silent gasp trapped between his fingers. “ _What_?!” 

Jongho sputtered, trying to find his words, “He has a half-brother?”

“ _Had_ ,” Hongjoong corrected him. He turned around. They were watching him with wide and distrustful eyes, especially San. “He died in the 70’s.”

“The 70’s…” Wooyoung echoed, the gears in his mind turning and turning. “About a month ago I was researching a case in the 70’s in which a warlock released a Greater Demon from a _Pyxis_ , but died after the summoning.” He glanced up at Hongjoong, a dark look crossing his face. “This warlock, was he Grant’s half-brother?”

“Certainly.”

“Why didn’t you tell us this?” San asked.

“I thought you knew about this,” Hongjoong explained, his hands held up in defense. “Wooyoung’s grandmother made sure the Greater Demon returned to its dimension. It cursed her descendants, but that curse was never proven. After all, a demon trapped in a _Pyxis_ for so long hardly can cast curses.”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened. “You’re saying my grandmother was not cursed?”

Hongjoong shook his head. “I doubt it.”

“That Greater Demon is the same that is roaming Seoul now, isn’t it?” Boah inquired. “Maluminse, the Greater Demon of Evil.”

Hongjoong nodded. “Indeed. In 1899 Maluminse was only briefly released by Park Jinhyuk before he was trapped in a _Pyxis_ , but his aura haunted New York for a while, stirring trouble between demons. They grew bold, but eventually everything ceased. I’ve had the luck to never encounter him personally.” 

“Until now,” Yerim muttered. 

“Until now,” Hongjoong repeated. “If it’s true that Maluminse is in Seoul, it means Grant finally got his revenge on us. He did promise us it would come back to haunt us.”

Before any of the young Shadowhunters could ask further about Maluminse, Boah cleared her throat. “Hongjoong, I must ask you about troubling news we received from Alicante,” she started, all eyes falling on her. “Do you know anything about poisoned blood that only affects Shadowhunters—like a sickness? Possibly another one of Grant’s or Jinhyuk’s insane plans?”

Hongjoong frowned, leaning now against the windowsill as he thought back to 1899. Grant’s whole plan had involved poisoning the blood of the Shadow World by mixing it together with binding spells, but he couldn’t recall any of the Shadowhunters of the International Institute of New York falling sick.

“I am not sure. I will have to check the notes I gathered back then. Why are you asking me this?”

“The Head of the Institute of Busan was infected by some sickness that poisoned his blood. The Silent Brothers aren’t sure of what to do. If this entire affair is related to 1899, I should have reasons to believe this sickness for Shadowhunters has to stem from then too.”

“I don’t recall anyone falling sick to poisoned blood,” Hongjoong muttered, scratching his neck thoughtfully. “But it has been a very long time since then, some details might have escaped me. I shall look into it.”

“Please, if you find more information about this, let me know, I’ll inform the Silent Brothers. It could become very important,” Boah spoke. “It seems we are being attacked with several methods. They’re trying to eradicate us; we must avoid that at all costs.”

“We will survive this,” Wooyoung said decidedly. “We have many allies and leads. We won’t be taken down.”

Boah smiled tiredly. “As long as we keep that spirit.”

“Is there anything else to be discussed?” Hongjoong asked. Mingi was waiting for him outside, it wasn’t raining as heavily as before, but Hongjoong knew Mingi was growing cranky in the soft drizzle. And Hongjoong wanted to share these troubling news with his friend immediately. They _had to find_ Aidan Magnus and end these dark affairs from spreading further than they already had. These young Shadowhunters depended on them and their help. “If not, then I will take my leave.”

“I believe everything has been discussed,” Boah said, nodding. “If you find out more about this Shadowhunter sickness, please let me know; and anything concerning Aidan.”

“Of course.” Hongjoong bowed his head, walking toward the study door. Youngjae accompanied him toward the Sanctuary.

Within such a short time they had been bombarded with so much new information; _worrying_ information. Wooyoung didn’t know anymore what to think, it was hard not to feel hopeless and useless. They were fighting several enemies at once, most of which appeared to be impossible to defeat. Wooyoung had never fought a Greater Demon, and Maluminse wasn’t just _any_ , he was the _source_ of Evil—and there was a chance he had cursed Wooyoung’s grandmother, which meant Wooyoung could be cursed too, as could’ve been his mother. He thought about the chances of his mother’s reason for leaving the Shadow World being linked to this curse, that she had been trying to protect Wooyoung.

He couldn’t believe a single mundane could cause so much despair. He cursed Wallace Grant silently as he exited Boah’s study with the rest of young Shadowhunters.

“By the Angel,” Yerim muttered. “What an eventful night, huh?” She glanced at the three boys. 

“I can’t shake off the feeling that Hongjoong is not telling us the whole truth. He keeps surprising us with all this hidden information,” San said, forehead wrinkled. “I can’t be the only one to be suspicious of him.”

“I admit it doesn’t look good,” Jongho said.

Wooyoung scowled at his _parabatai_. “It’s true when he says we should have known about Grant’s half-brother. I was _just_ reviewing the case a month ago, but whoever documented it, didn’t really write much about the warlock that released the Greater Demon. Hell, it barely mentioned my grandmother’s name,” he defended the warlock. “It’s hardly Hongjoong’s fault our ancestors have done a bad job at documenting our history.”

“You’re right on that,” Yerim agreed. He glanced at her _parabatai_. San was staring at Wooyoung with a bothered look.

“Why do you trust him so much?” San hissed.

“Why do you _distrust_ him so much?” Wooyoung shot back.

“Because he’s immortal!” San answered, eyes furious. “How can he care about some mortal affairs? Immortal Downworlders are the worst!” he insisted. “I’ve had my fair share of experience with them.”

Wooyoung bit his bottom lip, refraining from answering. He thought back to Yeonjun’s words earlier, before the Clave meeting.

“Not all immortal Downworlders are the same. Hongjoong has helped us!”

San scoffed, looking away from Wooyoung. He muttered something under his breath.

Yerim and Jongho exchanged a look, then looked back at their respective _parabatai_ worriedly.

“Should we stop them?” Jongho asked quietly.

“Whatever issues you’ve had in the past should not endanger our current mission,” Wooyoung said, and shouldered past San. 

Jongho sighed and quickly followed Wooyoung, whispering an apology to Yerim. Once they were out of earshot, he asked, “What the Hell was that about, hyung?”

“He’s frustrating!”

“That hasn’t bothered you before… What happened? I thought you two got along.”

“I thought so too, but he’s been behaving strangely. His suspicions aren’t helping us,” Wooyoung said. They rounded the corner, walking up the stairs to their private chambers. “I had a visitor before the Clave meeting. A faerie that knows San. He warned me about San’s dislike toward immortal Downworlders.”

“ _What_?!”

“I don’t know what to do. I didn’t want to believe him, but he’s right. The way San has been acting—after we were ambushed by demons and right now—it could endanger our mission.”

“What do you think we should do?” Jongho asked once they reached their rooms. 

“I’m not sure,” Wooyoung admitted. “I’ll… I’ll try to have a talk with San.”

Jongho studied him. “Be careful, hyung.”

Wooyoung huffed out a short laugh. “I can handle myself.”

Jongho sighed, grabbing the handle of his door. “I know you have taken a liking to him and want to befriend him, but some people are better left alone. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Wooyoung tried really hard not to blush. It was true that his growing feelings for San had encountered complications ever since he had glimpsed this rather unpleasant and difficult side of him. He realized there was a lot he didn’t know about San and his past.

“Again, I _can_ handle myself,” Wooyoung told his _parabatai_ and disappeared into his room.

**~*~**

**Seoul, November 11th 2019**

Silently, Wooyoung dropped down from the rooftop. A cloud of dust rose from underneath his feet, settling seconds later as he disappeared into the nearest shadows. It was panearingst midnight and Seoul was more or less quiet. The side street he found himself in certainly was vacant with the exception of himself and the person he was following, at a short distance in front of him, just as quiet and shadow drawn as Wooyoung himself.

About half an hour ago, Wooyoung had finished training, returning to his room after a pleasantly hot shower, tired to his bones and yearning for a good night’s sleep. His plans had been abruptly put to a stop when he had seen San slip out of his bedroom, silently tiptoeing down the stairs. Wooyoung had battled with himself for a few seconds, wondering if following San out into Seoul truly was the best plan of action. But then he’d recalled Yeonjun’s words— _look after him, make sure he doesn’t do anything reckless_ —and his feet had decided for him, trailing after San as if he was his shadow.

After their argument three days ago, they hadn’t spoken much. Since that night after the Clave meeting, the heat of their anger had calmed down, enough for polite but strained exchanges. (“Could you hand me that throwing knife?” “Do you know where Youngjae hyung is?” “Any news from Idris?”) Wooyoung’s heart had suffered a little from it, a deep ache in it that only got worse whenever he was in close vicinity of San. He wished he could go back to the days they were getting to know one another, before the Shadow World had been threatened by the presence of a Greater Demon. He wished they could have met under friendlier circumstances than these, they were complicating everything so much. He wished he wouldn’t have started to develop a crush on San.

When an intense scent filled Wooyoung’s nostrils, he realized that San was heading in the direction of the Han River, where Park Beomhyuk’s corpse had been found weeks ago. Perhaps San was trying to find leads; or perhaps he was going to yet another Downworlder establishment. The air around Wooyoung started to smell so strongly, he wrinkled his nose. The river’s shores were not far anymore. If he strained his hearing he could make out the waters splash in the winter breeze, like a whisper from a forgotten language. 

San disappeared between two tall buildings, Wooyoung followed him cautiously. It was hard to keep his eyes on San all while making sure the half-faerie couldn’t hear him, since he had better hearing than Wooyoung. In the distance was a small park, several benches facing the Han River, it was a nice and picturesque place for tourists or for romantic purposes, a picnic spot that many mundanes fancied during the day. Wooyoung observed San marching over to one of the benches, letting himself fall into it.

 _What is he doing?_

Apparently it was a spot for troubled Shadowhunters too.

San was staring silently at the river in front of him. He wasn’t moving, his shoulders stiffly resting against the bench’s wood, but from where Wooyoung was standing he could see tears shimmering in his eyes. A breeze came up from the Han River, carrying still that strong scent, and it whirled through San’s hair, the white sliver standing out like the Milky Way above them in the dark sky.

Wooyoung felt bad now about having followed San; this looked way too personal. San had come here to cry. _To mourn someone or something_ , Wooyoung thought, remembering the butterflies on San’s nails the first day he had arrived in Seoul. Butterflies were faerie symbols of mourning. 

Just as Wooyoung was turning around to walk away, his foot caught on a crack in the pavement, and he stumbled.

“Oof,” he groaned, pushing himself off the cold ground. There were small cuts on the palms of his hands, specked with dirt. He rubbed them off on his leather pants, too lazy to get his stele out to draw an _Irazte_ rune. But his gracefully awkward fall hadn’t been a silent one, a shadow appeared behind Wooyoung, and he turned around, alarmed.

San stood in front of him, his seraph blade drawn out, ready to attack. His eyes widened the moment he realized who had been following him. (His tears were gone now, but Wooyoung could see that the eyeliner San fancied to wear was all smudged and messy. Impossibly, it made San so much more striking.) “Wooyoung,” he whispered, completely confused. Then his beautiful face morphed into one of anger. “What the Hell are you doing here?”

“Uh.” Wooyoung scratched the back of his neck.

San squinted his eyes. “You… followed me, didn’t you? _Again_?” 

“I’m sorry!” Wooyoung hastily apologized. “I… It looked suspicious; and after the last time, I just couldn’t let you wander around alone,” he explained quickly. “It’s dangerous, San, even for you.”

San glowered at him before he swiftly turned around, his shoulder hunched up against the cold, and walked back to the bench in the park. Wooyoung fought with himself for a couple of seconds, weighing out his two options: both seemed equally as bad. He had already come this far—and San was already mad at him—it didn’t matter much whether he left now or not. With irresolute footsteps, he approached the bench San was sitting on, and with even more doubt he stood next to it, twisting his hand nervously. His fingers were so cold, in his haste to follow San he had completely forgotten to dress weather appropriately.

“Don’t linger there all creepily, just sit down,” San hissed.

Wooyoung complied, rubbing his hands together and sticking them between his thighs to warm them up. San shot him a curious yet annoyed look. He scoffed, getting his stele.

“Give me your arm,” he demanded.

“What are you going to do?” Wooyoung questioned.

San rolled his eyes. “I won’t hurt you if that’s what you’re wondering,” he said with a clipped town.

“No!” Wooyoung protested all too quickly. “That’s not what I was thinking! I don’t—I don’t distrust you. I was just asking.” He did offer San his left arm, rumpling up the sleeve of his jacket.

San took his forearm in his, the material of his knitted gloves soft and warm on Wooyoung’s skin. He began drawing a faintly familiar rune, once he was done warmth spread out through Wooyoung’s body.

“Oh,” he murmured, feeling supid. _Of course, the Warmth rune._

“You’re welcome.” San returned to watch the river silently.

Usually, Wooyoung wasn’t one to feel awkward. Hell, he was a warrior with Angel blood who fought evil and demons on a regular basis, but something about San was incredibly disarming. There were Yeonjun’s words too: they had sparked a flame of distrust in Wooyoung’s mind, making him question San. He had also considered the possibility that Yeonjun was trying to weaken them by planting seeds of doubt between them all. The idea that the faeries had already chosen their side in his blooming war, siding with whoever controlled the abominations, wasn’t too far-fetched, faeries usually sided with the winners.

In all of this, the one person Wooyoung had difficulty placing was San. If he struggled with both of his identities, there was no way of telling for whom he’d end up fighting—Shadowhunters or the Seelie Court—if he chose to fight at all.

“If you keep frowning like that, the wind will make sure those wrinkles stay,” San muttered, glancing briefly at Wooyoung.

Wooyoung scoffed. “Not all of us have the luxury to be born beautiful.”

San whipped his face around now, staring at him with his eyebrows raised. There was a flicker of amusement piercing through his previous annoyance. “Pardon?”

Inwardly, Wooyoung cursed himself for his careless tongue, feeling hot beneath his collar. “Oh, you have to be aware of your own handsomeness… Half-faerie, half-Nephlim.”

San’s lips twisted downwards. “That’s not as flattering as you may think it is. I don’t like to be othered as if I’m something special or exotic.”

When Wooyoung looked at him, he saw that San’s face had hardened, the expression in his eyes transforming to one of absolute irritation.

“Sorry,” he stuttered, feeling ashamed. “I didn’t mean to upset you—”

“Well, you did,” San interrupted him sharply. “Be honest, Wooyoung, why did you follow me?”

“I… was curious,” he admitted after a short beat of silence. “And I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t get into trouble. These are dangerous times, San, you have to know that.”

“I do know.” Then he sighed, his body relaxing and unfolding, and he leaned back against the bench again, his eyes closed. “I just had to get away for awhile.”

Wooyoung watched him quietly. His features were not easy to make out in the night, all he saw was the outline out of his face: his sharp nose and plump lips, the outline of his throat. Even like that, he made Wooyoung’s heart burn in quiet ache.

Hoping to distract San from whatever was plaguing his mind, and to understand Yeonjun’s request a little better, he asked, “How did you meet Yeonjun?”

San snapped his eyes open, giving Wooyoung a _look_. “Why are you asking me about Yeonjun?”

“In that Downworlder bar, you two seemed close. I got curious.”

“You are a very curious person, huh?” It sounded a little like an insult. Wooyoung scowled. “Are you trying to distract me from my anger with this question? Because it won’t work.”

“ _No_!” Wooyoung insisted, his ears burning now. How was he failing so badly at socializing with San? “I really am curious, but I understand if you want to ignore me instead. I’m sorry for following you—again,” he added the second bit in the desperate hope to make San understand he didn’t mean any harm with his action. Maybe he shouldn’t have listened to Yeonjun’s words, maybe they were going to ruin his building relationship with San. “If you want me gone, I can leave.”

San stayed quiet for a long time, so much in fact that Wooyoung believed he was ignoring him. Then, on San’s lips began to bloom a small smile, his eyes far away. 

“Yeonjun and I grew up in the Seelie Lands together, we were inseparable, and troublemakers. My mom was so exasperated with us.” He laughed before his face twisted, anger and resentment bright in his eyes. He let out a sigh. “When she disposed of me, Yeonjun and I kept in contact. Shortly after, he left the Seelie Court to stay with a family member in Busan. We hung out a lot, at the time I didn’t really get along with the other kids at the Institute—it was before Yerim’s arrival. For a very long time, Yeonjun was all I had.”

A whirlwind of jealousy, that he ignored, stormed in his mind. “Why didn’t you get along with the other kids?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” San pointed at his ears. Wooyoung ached in sympathy. “But that wasn’t all. Yeonjun and I—” He faltered, stopping himself. He turned to study Wooyoung intensely, who felt himself shiver nearly imperceptibly so. “We dated. The Head of the Institute of Busan didn’t exactly look well on that.”

“That you were dating a boy?”

“That I was dating a faerie,” San corrected him. “He’s very accepting when it comes to sexualities that aren’t straight. Hell, he dated a man himself.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that,” Wooyoung said, feeling his ears burn in embarrassment. He’d never heard stories of other Shadowhunters dating or marrying someone of the same gender. The only story was that of Jung Yunho, the banished Shadowhunter. Needless to say, it hadn’t gone too well for him: stripped of his runes and exiled in 1900.

“He doesn’t talk much about it. He’s a pretty bitter man, but he was very supportive of me when I came out to him,” San carried on explaining, as if he was on a roll; as if he had been waiting to tell someone all of this. He grimaced, realizing he was pouring out his heart to a near stranger. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”

Wooyoung’s heart was beating fastly in his chest, an ache coursing through his arteries. If he strained his eyes, he could see the dried tears on San’s cheeks. _I’d listen to anything he has to say_ , he thought hopelessly. With distant shame, he pulled his eyes away.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind,” he said, hoping San could hear the sincerity. 

“What about you? When did you meet Jongho? How did you decide on becoming _parabatai_?” San asked, diverting the attention away from his clumsy ramble.

“Well, we met when I was thirteen. He was the first Shadowhunter around my age that joined the Institute, together with Hyejoo. We became friends very quickly, the three of us, but Jongho and I… There was a quiet understanding between us, it was obvious from the start we would become _parabatai_. I don’t regret it one bit.”

San hummed. “With Yerim it was the same. She was the first family I met aside from my mom. We bonded immediately. I was so relieved to have family that wasn’t on the faerie side, that wasn’t in the Seelie Court…”

“Do you miss them? The Seelie Lands?”

San laughed, it was a strained and painful sound. “Sometimes,” he confessed; he said it as if it was a burning curse he carried with him. “We should head back. It’s getting late. We have a long day of training ahead of us.”

Wooyoung could sense with his last question he had overstepped the doorstep of the boundaries San had carefully laid out. The Seelie Court as well as his mother and his faerie heritage were off limits.

Wooyoung dusted off his trousers of imaginary dust and stood up. “Yeah, alright. Let’s go back.”

They walked back as midnight settled over them, dark mist creeping up from the Han River and slithering through the narrow streets and back alleys of Seoul. Distantly, from a nearby highway, the rumbling of engines could be heard, headlights flashing by like shooting stars. 

Just as they were only blocks away from the Institute, thick snowflakes began to fall from the sky, gaining intensity with each step the two Shadowhunters took towards warmth. Snow still covered each of Seoul’s surfaces from the previous snowfall, but with mundanes walking around and cars and other transportation methods, it had melted or been shoved to the side, dirty and unpleasant. These new snowflakes covered the city like a blanket, rewriting its existing stories.

Wooyoung stopped, taking in the view, the street lamps shimmered beautifully on the crystal white, the sky wasn’t as dark, the curtain of snow trapping every light in it. He breathed out in awe.

San halted next to him, giving him a questioning look. “What is it? Did you see something?”

“No. I was just admiring the snowfall.”

San blinked—in surprise or confusion—and looked around himself. “What about it?”

“Don’t you think it’s beautiful?”

San shrugged. “It’s freezing. I don’t like the cold.” Suddenly, he reached out his hand and took hold of Wooyoung’s wrist, to stop him even if Wooyoung wasn’t moving, still entranced by the view. “Listen, Wooyoung,” he said.

Wooyoung looked away from the snow, settling his eyes on San. “Yes?” 

“I’m sorry for my outburst a few days ago—about Hongjoong,” he apologized, taking Wooyoung by surprise. “You’re right, I shouldn’t compromise our current mission, but if he’s hiding any more things of us—”

“I get it, San,” Wooyoung said, retrieving his wrist.

“You do?”

“In times like these, when the Shadowhunters are threatened, we have to pick our allies wisely. With that being said, I honestly believe Hongjoong has intentions of helping us.”

San searched his face. Then he let out a sigh, he sounded surrendered.

“It’s not about that, not fully,” San whispered. He looked troubled. “Immortals. They don’t care about us, Wooyoung, for them our lives are just a blink of an eye. Everything that’s happening is irrelevant to them.”

“Is that what you learned in the Seelie Court?” Wooyoung questioned sharply.

San frowned, hurt and anger flashing through his face. “This is just the nature of things. Our mortal affairs are distant to them. Faeries have a good grasp of that: wagering in wars and choosing the winning side.”

“What about you then?” Wooyoung asked him. “What side are you on? After all, you’re half-faerie.”

San took a fistful of Wooyoung’s shirt, dragging him close to his face. His lips were parted and twisted, but no words came past them. He shook his head, letting go of Wooyoung at once.

“You don’t know anything about me.” He marched off, in the direction of the Institute.

With a rattling heart and mind, Wooyoung shouted after him, “I know that you were hurt by your mother, and the Seelie Court, but it doesn’t mean you get to talk for all Downworlders!”

San stilled in his tracks, whirling around.

“And what gives you the place to speak for them? To decide that they’re trustworthy? The eradication of Nephilim; it sounds like a Downworlder dream to me. The moment word gets out about this Shadowhunter sickness, many of them will stop helping us.”

“The abominations have targeted Downworlders too. This isn’t _us versus them_ , this is something all of us are involved in!”

“We will see about that.” 

With that, San jogged around the corner, disappearing from Wooyoung’s sight, his Shadowhunter speed and faerie agility rendered him incredibly fast. Wooyoung stood alone in the snowfall with confused and uncomfortable feelings and thoughts storming his mind; what if San was right? What if Hongjoong and Seoho would turn their back once this became something that only affected Shadowhunters? After all, they had failed to destroy Wallace Grant’s scrolls, which had unleashed these dark affairs into the world in the first place.

Wooyoung couldn’t figure out what Aidan Magnus’ final objective was with everything he had done and was doing. He was a Shadowhunter himself; why would he put out a sickness that killed off Shadowhunters? What had his intentions been until now? 

Wooyoung had to speak to Boah, they needed to find answers soon. This uncertainty was driving him mad. With an angered sigh, he stormed after San, heading toward the Institute.

**~*~**

**Silent City, November 13th 2019**

_This way, Jung Wooyoung_ , spoke Brother Insik, gesturing with his scarred hand at the staircase that led far down into the City of Bones. _The documents Kwon Boah requested are stored in our most secure archive._

“And yet someone managed to steal Grant’s scrolls a couple of months ago,” Wooyoung muttered under his breath as he took a torch from the wall and began going down the narrow and dusty stairs.

The Silent City—often referred to as the City of Bones since it served as a cemetery for the brave Shadowhunters—was underground with several access points to it across the world, the main one in Alicante, Idris’ capital city. It was gloomy looking, carved out of rocks, and dusty as an old and abandoned catacomb. Wooyoung could spy other Silent Brothers lingering about in different rooms.

 _We are still investigating that breach_ , Brother Insik said. Wooyoung grimaced. There was no privacy in front of the Silent Brothers. _It has taken us by surprise. No one has ever stolen anything from the Silent City._

“For what? You know it was Park Beomhyuk, and he is now dead.”

_That is true, but we cannot comprehend how he managed to access the archive the scrolls were hidden in._

“It seems to me he might have gotten help from the inside,” Wooyoung pointed out. Behind him, Brother Insik hesitated in his steps. When Wooyoung turned around, he only could make out the Brother’s sewn shut mouth, and scarred collarbones, his hood concealing the rest of his face well in the dim light. They were eerie looking, not much of an expression on their faces.

 _That’s impossible,_ Brother Insik said calmly. Wooyoung doubted they could hold any sort of emotion other than calmness. _Our oath to the Silent Brotherhood is strong. No Brother would ever dare to betray it._

Wooyoung hummed. “I have to disagree. I think everyone is capable of betrayal, no matter what.”

Brother Insik didn’t further respond to Wooyoung’s accusations. Instead he pointed at a corridor to their left: _The archive is down there._

Wooyoung walked in, tripping over a loose tile on the ground. He searched for support on the wall next to him, it was cool to the touch, like probably the entirety of the Silent City. He glared at the tile, kicking it back into its place. He noticed scuff marks around it, as if it had been moved around; _I’m not the first one to trip over it_ , he thought, feeling a little better.

Ever since his fight with San, he had been overly abrasive and angry. His thoughts spiraling at night into dark and doubtful corners. He couldn’t stop wondering if San had been right, and felt extremely unprepared and worried about the future of the Shadow World. He could only hope that in Grant’s notes they would find answers.

The entrance to the archive was a well hidden door in the wall, a Silent Brother guarding it. He regarded them with a curt nod.

 _Brother Kiha, I am here on the Clave’s orders to retrieve all documents belonging to Wallace Grant_ , Brother Insik said.

Brother Kiha turned around and unlocked the door, gesturing at Brother Insik to follow him.

 _Wait here, Jung Wooyoung_ , Brother Insik said, entering the archive.

Wooyoung scoffed, but complied, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed in front of his chest. Boah had commanded him the previous night to visit the Silent City to retrieve Grant’s documents so they could use them to find something about the Shadowhunter sickness and Maluminse. After the Clave meeting, Boah had received clearance from the Council to become the leader of this mission, putting all their trust into her.

A hissing sound in his mind, like boiling water sizzling through a water cooker, startled Wooyoung out of his thoughts. It seemed the Silent Brothers were alarmed. He drew out his seraph blade, whispering its name. Its white-ish light cast eerie shadows around him. He stalked toward the archive, wondering what was taking the Silent Brothers so long. When he pushed open the door, he was met with a carpet of ashes, both Silent Brothers staring at the destruction silently. Wooyoung coughed, smoke still lingering everywhere. He covered his mouth with his free hand.

“What, in the Angel’s name, happened here?!” 

_It appears someone destroyed everything in the archive_ , Brother Kiha spoke.

“How is that possible?! You were meant to guard it, weren’t you?” Wooyoung demanded furiously. He kicked a half burned box with the tip of his boot, it fell apart into ashes and irreparable pieces.

Brother Kiha gave him a look: though his face was expressionless and scarred, it seemed he was annoyed.

 _I cannot explain this myself. No one has gone in or come out while I was standing guard_ , he explained, turning toward Brother Insik. They held a telepathic conversation that Wooyoung wasn’t part of. _It seems whoever did this used a Fire rune. There is no scent of gasoline or anything that could have burned it so quickly and vastly._

“A Fire rune?” Wooyoung echoed. “A Shadowhunter did this?”

Brother Insik nodded.

“Of course. Aidan Magnus,” Wooyoung spat. “It has to have been him.”

 _We will look into the matter_ , Brother Insik promised. _But I am afraid, you have come in vain, Jung Wooyoung._

Wooyoung clenched his teeth. “No. No, I might have not. Please tell me this isn’t where you kept Park Jinhyuk’s documents too…”

The Silent Brothers didn’t respond right away, shattering Wooyoung’s hope. Then, Brother Kiha spoke, _We have a separate archive where we keep Nephilim journals. I could give you Park Jinhyuk’s journals, but I don’t know if you’ll find anything of use in them._

“I’ll take them,” Wooyoung said, sheathing his seraph blade to his belt. “Lead the way.”

Brother Kiha nodded, gesturing Wooyoung to follow him. They walked out of the corridor, back to the grand staircase of the Silent City. Before they left, though, Brother Kiha had a telepathic conversation with Brother Insik that once again Wooyoung wasn’t a part of. He scowled, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He let his eyes travel around the Silent City, his eyes catching on a mural, in the faint light of the torches, Wooyoung could barely make it out: Shadowhunters fighting demons, one of the demons bigger and more threatening than the others—a Greater Demon.

 _We can go now. Follow me, Jung Wooyoung_ , Brother Kiha spoke, dragging Wooyoung out of his thoughts.

Brother Insik walked up the stairs.

“Could I ask you a question?” Wooyoung wondered as they descended further into the Silent City, past more murals, all hidden in the shadows.

_What is it?_

“How much do you know of Greater Demons? Enough to tell me about Maluminse, the Greater Demon of Evil?”

Brother Kiha glanced over his shoulder at Wooyoung. _He is powerful, avoided by many lesser demons even_ , he began talking. _He hasn’t roamed Earth much, thankfully. Wallace Grant was a fool to entrust him; Greater Demons shouldn’t be trusted._

“What about the times he _has_ roamed Earth? Can you tell me about them?”

_He makes the worst in mundanes come out. Even Nephilim, who carry the blood of Angels, are easily succumbed to his aura. He exudes evil and chaos, he thrives off of it. The fact that he is among us again, can only mean bad things for the Shadow World. I fear the days ahead of us._

Wooyoung grimaced; a Silent Brother showing fear wasn’t good news.

“Was he actually unleashed in 1899?”

 _Not entirely. He was put in a_ Pyxis _by Park Jinhyuk, but the hours he was free were enough to spread his evil deeds. The same goes for the second time he was unleashed, when that warlock freed him from the_ Pyxis _._

“For good reason they were banned,” Wooyoung muttered to himself.

 _Indeed,_ Brother Kiha agreed, _but that didn’t stop someone from seeking him out again and freeing him. You might have noticed his aura yourself, feeling angrier than usual_ , the Silent Brother mentioned. Wooyoung noticed his cheeks heating up in embarrassment and shame. He refrained himself from answering, feeling overly exposed by the comment. _This time around he isn’t tethered to a_ Pyxis _, concealing his full form or weakened by it. He is completely among us now, there is nothing stopping him. Which makes his lack of chaos so unsettling._

Brother Kiha stopped in front of a door, he pulled at his belt’s keychain, a metallic _clank_ sounded as he searched through the keys. 

“What do you mean?” Wooyoung inquired.

Brother Kiha unlocked the door, but didn’t walk through yet. He turned around to glance at Wooyoung. _Whatever plan Wallace Grant had, must have really convinced Maluminse to play along, and that worries me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading, lmk what you think! ^^
> 
> (most chapters will probably be around this length or longer so updates will take a while, plus i'm starting full-time work so i'll have less time T_T)
> 
> \- twitter: [here](https://twitter.com/hhhjoong)  
> \- curiouscat: [here](https://curiouscat.qa/mist_)


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